Page 81 of A Game Plan for Love

She’s warm but I don’t think she has an intense fever. Blue eyes crack open and her face crumples when she sees me. Her arms fly around my neck and she starts to cry.

I don’t blame her. The stomach flu is horrible for adults, but as a child who can’t fully regulate their emotions, it’s a different beast.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I peer up at Declan, who surveys the scene. Nora’s pink backpack hangs off his shoulder, and he has her jacket and shoes hanging over his forearm.

“Decy,” Nora moans, then her eyes widen.

Oh, god. She’s going to puke all over me.

Before the inevitable destruction can occur, Declan moves at the speed of light and holds the trash bag in front of her. She sobs as she vomits, and each sound is a shallow cut.

Nora’s only ever had a small cold, and every sound twists my heart a bit more. The reek of vomit fills the air, and I dry heave, turning away so I don’t vomit myself. When she’s finished, she clings to my chest again, and I haul her out the door and into the car.

Declan opens the passenger side door, and I slip into the seat. He drops a small kiss on my temple. “She’s okay,” he assures me, like he understands every worry running through my mind. “It sucks, but she’s a trooper.”

I nod, trying to let the words settle me, but she moans, and my worry and guilt grow larger.

I’m a mess on the drive back to my apartment, leg bouncing and stomach in knots. I jump every time Nora rustles, and by the time Declan carries her into the apartment, I’m on edge.

He gently sets her down on the couch, and when she’s settled, he turns around and pulls me into the small bathroom. The yellow light illuminates the concern in his deep blue eyes, but panic builds, and I move to the door.

Declan steps in front of the doorframe, grabs my hips, and drops me onto the countertop. It’s not rational, but every second Nora’s on the couch without me is a moment she may need me, but I’m not there.

“Addie.” His sharp voice cuts through the panic. “I need you to take a minute for yourself.” He scans my face, then trails a palm along my cheek. “She’s feeding off your energy.”

“I have to take care of her.”

“Who takes care of you, then?” he asks softly. The silence between us is heavy, and a tear slips out. He swipes it away with his thumb. “Let me take care of you— both of you. You don’t need to shoulder it all on your own. Let me in. Give me some of the burden.”

“And who takes care of you?” I throw back the words, a flimsy shield for my heart, which has slowly grown to make space for him.

His eyes soften with vulnerability. “I’ve always taken care of myself.”

“No more,” I say resolutely, taking his face between my palms. “For either of us.”

He nods, and I place a gentle kiss on his lips. The moment only lasts a few seconds, but when the kiss ends, he releases me.

“Take a bath or read a book,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Declan slips out of the bathroom, and the only sound is the rush of blood in my ears.

I take his advice and turn the water so hot that steam pours into the room and pour Nora’s bubble bath into the water. When the top layer is covered in strawberry scented bubbles, I sink into the water down to my shoulders and lay my head against the cool tile rim of the tub.

I’m a bit too tall for the bath, and my knees pop out of the water as I sink as low as possible, but the stress and worry trapped in my muscles slowly leaks into the water until my body is pruned and I feel like an al-dente pasta noodle.

The water drains while I put lotion on and slip on a pair of pajamas.

Declan and Nora are in the living room, right where I left them.

Nora sits on the couch, hunched over a large mixing bowl. Declan works to tie her hair back away from her face while she retches into the bowl. She’s miserable, and when she stops, he takes the bowl and cleans it out before handing it back to her.

He has no idea I’m watching, but my heart swells as he whispers soft words in her ear and rubs her back in soothing circles.

The thought strikes unexpectedly.I trust him with our lives. My life. Nora’s life.

He would do what was best for us, before what was best for him. The last thing he should be doing is taking care of a kid with a stomach bug, especially during the season when it could cost him a game, but here he is, taking care of my daughter like she’s his own.

Taking care of me, too.

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